


Just Work Your Body and Let It Go

by waketosleep



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, One Night Stands, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-21
Updated: 2010-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a rough week at work, Danny went out to drink off the tension; Steve went out looking for something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Work Your Body and Let It Go

**Author's Note:**

> So robanybody taunted me with [pictures of O'Lough looking like rough trade](http://robanybody.livejournal.com/468194.html) and then this happened. Thanks to Sutlers for giving it a quick once-over before I reposted.

It had been a rough fucking week. There was really no other way to describe it. They'd spent it trying to lock up some gun-runners and the whole thing had been shit from start to finish. Steve had had two tense, angry phone calls with the governor; they'd failed to get a warrant to search a gang leader's house that could have locked up their case in two days. There'd been a shootout where Chin had ended up with a leg full of goddamn buckshot before Kono and Steve had both gone Rambo and taken out three people, and now Danny was hearing mutterings that a piece of evidence they had actually managed to get their hands on might not be admissible in court.

Rough. Fucking. Week.

So Steve, naturally, was wound like a spring because a member of his team besides him had been wounded. Chin was in the hospital recovering. Kono was walking around glaring like she thought she could set the air on fire. Danny was just... tired. Bone-tired, deeply weary, trying for the millionth time in his career to remember that he loved being a cop, loved the good days.

If a better reason to drink existed, Danny wanted to see it.

Danny had been hanging around Waikiki for almost a year and as much as he resisted the idea of going native, he knew his way around pretty well. There was a drinking option for every mood; the boardwalk to dress up a little and people-watch and pick up tourists, the club district to dress up a little more and cruise 20-somethings, local and not, and if you drove a little more, past the high-rent tourist traps, a couple real low-down and seedy joints good for drinking tequila and pretending to be mute.

Danny felt punchy, didn't know if drinking would make him quiet and depressed or loud and horny that night, so he went to a bar just off the boardwalk. It was too dirty for tourists who wanted dancing and fruity cocktails but the beer specials drew locals of all kinds and some military, too. It was a good start, as far as Danny was concerned.

The place was half-full when Danny got there, not long after dragging out of work. It was a nice evening, cooling off fast with a hint of breeze as the sun started slinking its way down toward the water; Danny grabbed a beer at the bar and made his way out to the patio to relax and enjoy another perfect tropical sunset.

Most of a beer later, he'd unwound a little and was idly watching people and cars go by on the street, when he caught sight of a tall, lanky guy in jeans and sunglasses coming up the road. Danny frowned as he came closer, feeling like he was missing something. As the guy approached, Danny made out his beat-up denim jacket and worn boots; his sunglasses were aviators that reflected the sky and the jeans had a hole over one knee but (and this was weird for Waikiki) it looked like the kind of hole that actually happened _after_ buying them.

This guy was sex, rough and wild. Dangerous. Danny's senses sharpened. He tracked the guy over his beer and watched him turn and walk past the patio and into the darkness of Danny's bar. Danny hummed to himself in anticipation as the guy made his way to the door, and then nearly choked on a mouthful of beer when he recognized the man he'd just been ogling.

It was _Steve_ , and Danny wanted to run for the shoreline and drown himself.

Instead, he drained his beer and got up to follow Steve inside. Maybe he'd at least score one of the hundred beers Steve owed him.

Steve was at the bar. "McGarrett," he said as he approached. Steve turned, looking tired and maybe just a little manic.

Danny grinned. "I almost didn't recognize you in jeans."

"Good job, Detective," said Steve as his beer arrived. He took a long drink. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting another drink," said Danny with a significant look at the elusive wallet in Steve's hand. Steve sighed and signalled for another beer, laying two fives on the bar.

"I like this bar," Danny continued, his mission accomplished as he was handed a new beer. "It's good for group therapy."

"It's popular with the Navy," said Steve, "but not _too_ popular."

"I noticed." Danny took a long pull of his drink. "So, about five more of these and I might be able to put this week behind me," he said, holding it up. "How about you?"

Steve was leaning one hip on the bar. "Oh, you know," he said, shrugging fluidly. He already looked relaxed, except for that lingering tension around the eyes.

Danny looked him up and down and the penny dropped. "Ah, so you came out here looking like rough trade on _purpose_."

Steve smiled slow and wide. "I only bring the jeans out on special occasions," he said. "Not enough pockets."

"Oh god," said Danny, "this is like, a whole ritual for you, isn't it? You went fishing for tail on leave when you were a GI Joe and you did exactly this," he continued, knowing as he said it that every word was true, because that was just like Steve.

"If it works, it works," Steve drawled. He looked around. "In fact, you're cramping my style a little right now, Danno."

"Do they think you're spoken for or have they started looking at me instead?" Danny asked, glancing from side to side.

Steve snorted. "Well, I did buy you a drink, didn't I?"

Danny studied Steve's face, feeling like he was on the edge of something. This was the point where he normally backed off from bad decisions, but then he remembered Chin looking miserable in a hospital bed and the pile of paperwork on his desk and how the fucking perps might still get off, and instead he decided to push rather than retreat.

“That's true,” he said, swirling his beer in the bottle. “The least I could do in return is put out. Even if you do owe me a million beers at this point.”

Steve absorbed that comment and his stance seemed to shift without his actually moving. A second before he'd been leaning hard on the bar like it was the only defense he had against gravity, sure, but in a relaxed and casual way. When all of his attention suddenly focused on Danny his pose turned almost sultry, wanton, an invitation. Danny's collar started to itch.

So. Definitely not the jacket and sunglasses pulling in the tail by themselves, then.

“It's like five beers, tops,” Steve corrected, his tone still in usual 'bitching at Danny' registers but his gaze hot.

“What a coincidence,” said Danny, “that's exactly the number I said I needed tonight.”

Steve licked his lips and studied Danny for a second. “Yeah,” he said eventually, “yeah, okay, let's have a couple more.”

“Back at your place?” asked Danny.

“Let's stay here for a while.”

“You're buying.”

“Yes, sir,” said Steve, flagging down the bartender as Danny knocked back the rest of his drink.

***

Five beers somehow got lost in translation and ended up being a lot of tequila, because of course they got competitive along the way, why wouldn't they? What else was new? And then Steve couldn't keep his hand off Danny's thigh in the crowded bar anymore, even with the crowd of clearly Navy people off in the far corner, so they left. Steve's house was too far away, hell, the _beach_ was too far away by then, and they went to a little motel down the block; Danny hung back with his arms crossed tight over his chest, his nerves singing and the front desk room warm and fuzzing around the edges as Steve got a room.

“I usually get one anyway,” said Steve in Danny's ear as they made their way to the room, one of his hands jingling the keys and the other wrapped around Danny's waist. “Might as well.”

“Don't give a fuck,” said Danny into Steve's neck as they shoved each other up against the pastel blue door of the room, Steve fumbling with the key and the lock as Danny worked his hands up the back of Steve's shirt. “Come on Rambo, or I'll fuck you right here in the open.”

Steve took a deep breath and got the key in the door, and Danny nearly fell on his ass when the door opened. Instead he caught Steve by the hips and used the momentum to drag him inside, shoving him up against the door when it was closed again behind them.

“You know,” Steve gasped as Danny pushed his t-shirt up to suck bruises into his chest, “for a sure thing, you're probably one of the most expensive lays I've ever had. Takes a lot of tequila to loosen you up.”

“I think I picked you up, so don't call _me_ the sure thing,” Danny hissed back, dragging his fingers down Steve's sides and letting his nails scratch the skin a little. Steve shuddered.

“Danny, it's okay that you're secretly a huge slut, I don't mind,” said Steve reasonably in a drunken slur, pawing at Danny's front. “God, you're still wearing a fucking _tie_ , do you wear them all the time?” he snarled, pulling on the knot.

“I didn't go home,” said Danny, batting Steve's hands away and loosening his tie before Steve choked him to death; he let Steve finish pulling it apart and watched him throw it across the room.

Steve started in on Danny's shirt buttons without another word and Danny went for Steve's jeans. Steve was wearing only the jeans. “I'm so glad you're obviously, and not so secretly, a bigger slut,” he said, putting a hand around Steve's cock and pumping it hard, once. Steve's hands tightened in Danny's shirt and he came close to popping off the rest of the buttons; Danny reached down and undid the last three buttons on his own before that could happen.

“I came out to get laid,” said Steve, toeing his boots off as he gripped Danny's shoulders. “Why wear unnecessary clothes?”

“Jesus,” said Danny as Steve started backing him toward the bed. “What is it like inside your head?” he asked as he pushed Steve's jacket off of his shoulders, feeling how worn and soft it was before it hit the floor with a thump.

“It's awesome,” said Steve, mouthing his way along Danny's jaw and down his neck as he dragged Danny's shirt off and then somehow undid his belt and pants and had the whole works on the floor in under three seconds. Danny was still processing what had just happened when Steve whipped off his t-shirt and then shoved him down on the bed and climbed on top of him. “Less talking,” he said, looking down at Danny and breathing hard. “It's insulting to my technique.”

“What tech--” Danny started, but it was choked off into a groan when Steve went down on him.

“Fuck,” he said loudly.

Steve lifted his mouth off of Danny's dick with a slurp that made Danny's toes curl. “You are allowed to say that, 'God', 'Steve', 'please', 'yes', and 'more'.”

Danny grabbed Steve by the hair and used it to pull him up the bed. Sticking his tongue down Steve's throat not only made him be silent but made him grind against Danny and moan into his mouth. Danny thrusted upwards, hard, and Steve broke the kiss to choke out a desperate noise. “Fuck, Danny,” he said, pressing his face into Danny's chest.

Danny reached down between them but Steve grabbed his hand and pinned it to the sheets. “Condom,” he said. “I have one.” He leaned up and kissed Danny hard. “And lube,” he said against Danny's lips.

“Where?”

“Pants.”

“Hurry up.” Danny let his head flop back onto the bed; his head was between the pillows and the covers were still pulled up.

Steve slid off of him and Danny heard him grab his pants off the floor. He was back in a second and pressing the condom and lube into Danny's hand. “Fuck me,” he said, biting and then licking Danny's collarbone.

Danny raised his head. “What?”

“Fuck me,” Steve repeated. “Come on, Danno.”

And then Danny watched Steve take the lube from him, straddle Danny's thighs, and put his own finger up his ass. Danny watched raptly as Steve hissed, arching his back and working it in. When he added a second finger, biting his lip, Danny couldn't take it any longer and started stroking himself. “Fuck, Steve,” he said brokenly, and Steve grabbed Danny's wrist with his free hand.

“Wait your turn,” he said, and Danny obediently stopped touching himself.

As Steve worked himself down on his fingers, though, his eyes shut, his face raised up to the ceiling and his mouth open in a silent gasp, Danny's fingers itched. He raised himself up on an elbow and reached out slowly, trailing his fingers lightly along Steve's dick. Steve groaned loudly and Danny wrapped his fist around it, squeezing the base and enjoying a stuttering gasp before he started working his hand, twisting his wrist at the head as Steve ground down on three fingers shining with lube in the streetlight coming through the curtains.

“Yeah Steve, come on,” Danny said roughly, working him hard and listening to him moan. “Come on.”

Steve hissed and pulled off of his fingers; Danny took the signal and ripped open the condom wrapper. Steve covered him with more lube and then crawled forward, grabbing Danny's dick with one hand and leaning back to brace himself on the bed with the other as he lowered himself down. Danny shut his eyes as Steve worked himself onto his cock, holding his breath until Steve was most of the way down and then exhaling in a rush when Steve rocked his hips and pushed down again.

Steve held himself still for a moment, breathing in through his nose, and Danny opened his eyes and saw how he clutched at a handful of the tacky, palm leaf-print bedspread. He opened his mouth to speak but Steve twisted, raised up and pushed down on Danny again and any words he might have come up with turned into a groan.

Steve moved tortuously slow, sweat shining on his chest and stomach as he rocked, pushing his hips forward until sinking down on Danny made him moan and bow his head. Danny braced his feet on the bed and thrust up as much as he could; Steve arched his back, his knuckles white in the bedspread.

“Jesus,” Steve whispered and Danny couldn't take it anymore, he pushed himself upright, catching Steve around the waist, and pulled his head down to bite at his lips and lick his way inside Steve's mouth as he thrust his hips up again, short and hard. Steve's fingers dug into his shoulder; there would be bruises later and Danny gasped and thrust up once more before grabbing Steve's waist, twisting and pushing him onto his back.

Steve's legs came up around Danny's hips; the movement had pulled Danny out a little and he pushed back in, feeling Steve's heel dig into the back of his thigh. Danny pulled one knee underneath him, planted his hands on either side of Steve's arms and started fucking him until Steve threw his head back and his hair stood up from rubbing across the bedspread.

“Fuck, yes, please, harder,” Steve chanted, his eyes squeezed shut and his breathing shallow. Danny reached down and got Steve's cock in his hand again, pumping his fist in counterpoint to each thrust, shifting his hips until each thrust bumped Steve's prostate and he couldn't breathe steadily enough to swear anymore, just digging his fingers into Danny's shoulders, slick with sweat, until it hurt.

“God, you love it,” whispered Danny. “You love giving up control.”

Steve cracked one eye open and grinned breathlessly before tensing and rolling Danny across the bed.

As Danny blinked up at him, Steve squeezed around him and chuckled hoarsely. “Who's in control?” he asked. “Are you sure you know?”

Then he pressed his knees into Danny's ribs and twisted somehow; Danny's eyes rolled back in his head and he came, hard, probably yelling and he felt vaguely guilty for the rooms on either side as Steve tongue-fucked his mouth and rutted lazily against his stomach.

Danny finally came back to himself and pushed Steve off by his shoulders so that he could take him in hand again. Steve's fingers wrapped around Danny's and together they brought him off; Steve groaned as he came on Danny's chest and stomach, and then he rolled his head around his neck and looked down at the mess, dragging a finger through his come and sucking it into his mouth.

“Jesus fuck,” panted Danny, not having enough energy to react in any way but swearing. Steve climbed off of him and pulled off the condom, getting up to throw it in the trash before stretching and walking into the bathroom.

Danny heard the shower start and looked down at the mess all over him. It was a good fucking thing that orgasms made him feel generous towards mankind. He got up and grabbed Steve's shirt to wipe himself off with. Steve probably wouldn't really care if he had to go home shirtless, anyway, Danny told himself as he threw the shirt on the floor and pulled back the covers.

 

THE END


End file.
